Serendipity
by The Walrus and the Carpenter
Summary: It's Christmas in New York, and with a handsome smile, an interfering best friend, and several mortifying mishaps, Bella might just be able to get over her heartbreak. AH Bella and Jasper.


**Serendipity.**

**Bella's POV**

As I gazed out the window at the softly falling snow, feeling perfectly wistful and melancholy, my bedroom door banged loudly, followed by Alice's exasperated voice, "Bella, I'm putting my foot down—I mean it. I'm not going to allow you to wallow a minute longer. There's only two weeks 'till Christmas and we're going out to do festive shit. You have _five minutes_!"

I blinked slowly with a sort of half-inner sigh and turned to face the door contemplating the degree of her conviction. It was true, since Tyler and I had broken up—let me rephrase that; since Tyler had broken up with me for Pamela Anderson's less intelligent twin sister, Alice had been patient, allowing my world to collapse around me while remaining a constant source of support. For the first month that was. After the second, it was plain her irritation began to simmer by the amount of times she rolled her eyes whenever they turned in my direction. And now, in the third month since my heart was ripped to shreds, chewed up and spat out, Alice's seemingly endless amount of forbearance had dried up.

Was three months an excessive amount of time to mourn a lost love? I had no idea since I'd never been in love prior to Tyler.

Just as I was pulling myself reluctantly off my bed, my door popped open and Alice poked her head into my room. As she noticed my compliance, a satisfied grin curved on her lips. "Just checking. I was prepared to use the fire extinguisher."

She would have.

Begrudgingly I pulled on my coat and woolen cap in preparation for the icy New York elements and left the confines of my room. A place that was my only solace—apart from Alice's many cups of herbal tea—these last several months as I worked my way through the worst pain a relatively sheltered girl like me had ever known.

"What do you have in mind?" I muttered, eyes on the floor as I threaded my fingers through the Technicolor mittens she'd made for me the Christmas before.

Alice made the pretense of 'umming' and 'ahhing' when I knew she already had it planned out.

"Rockefeller Center! Ice skating?" Her eyes widened as the pitch of her voice rose with her enthusiasm.

I only groaned and brought a wool-sheathed hand to my brow. "Are you serious?" I complained in a whiny tone that made me internally cringe.

Was this what I had become?

Another eye roll, that she only half bothered to conceal, before her charms of persuasion were put into full force. I didn't stand a chance, but I wasn't going to object; it was Alice's first Christmas in the Big Apple after all. This was despite the fact that she'd probably seen more of the city in the last six months than a person who'd lived their entire life here.

I took a resigned breath and shrugged. "Okay," I conceded with only trace amounts of begrudgery while managing a shadow of a smile. "But if I break any bones it's on your insurance."

"Deal," she said brightly, throwing one of her flea market scarfs haphazardly around her shoulders and grabbing my hand.

It would almost certainly have to be, since mine would barely cover admittance to the ER.

When I came to New York all bright eyed and full of dreams, that were still fresh and conceivable almost two years ago, it wasn't even in my realm of possibilities that I'd end up barely past minimum wage working in Bloomingdales. Eighteen months later and now employed as the assistant for the head of the Burberry range, my fantasies about becoming Carrie Bradshaw had well and truly been extinguished.

For Alice it was the polar opposite. She'd come to the city with the same dreams, only in Alice's realm of possibilities, not succeeding in fulfilling ones goals didn't even register on the scale of 'maybe'. She expected to get the job she wanted and not two weeks from moving in with me in my shoebox, rat infested, one bedroom Brooklyn apartment, she was employed at John Freida's Salon on Madison Avenue, specializing in color and not battering a two dollar mascaraed eyelash about what a feat it was.

I had given up—on fear of an aneurysm—trying to work my mind around how a twenty-four year old from a small town in Washington was able to land a job in one of the most prestigious New York Salons with only four years' experience, while knowing no one but a girl who sold Calvin Klein underwear and resided with rodents.

So, courtesy of Alice's fabulous job and accompanying wage, we moved from my third world rattrap to West End Avenue, where phrases such as, 'Reece Witherspoon's roots', or 'Gwyneth Paltrow's _lipd layer'_, soon became immersed into our conversations.

While I still frequently had to stop myself and shake my head in wonder, Alice was never able to appreciate it as I did. It was all her _modus operandi_ toward her ultimate goal of opening her own Salon.

"No, we're not cutting through Central Park!" I insisted at Alice's suggestion, after almost ten minutes of attempting unsuccessfully to flag a cab.

Other scenarios that weren't in Alice's realm of possibilities,were being attacked and raped by the crazies in New York that came out after dark. However, I'm sure any attempt by a would-be attacker would result in him voluntarily attending alcoholics anonymous and reconnecting with his estranged parents. It was Alice we were talking about after all. Still, it wasn't to say that coming to a horrendous, undignified end wasn't high up on my list of probabilities, even with Alice beside me. I'd be immediately picked off in the same way a cheetah separates a baby antelope from its mother.

I wondered, as I shivered against the biting wind, if such an event would actually be worse than the pain that was raging relentlessly through my heart.

The answer was a clenching sensation within my chest, the threat of fresh tears and yet another eye roll from Alice.

Making a soft huffing sound, she slung her arm over my shoulder, while raising her hand, almost dismissively, for the cab that I'd failed to hail; which of course screeched to a halt immediately in front of us.

"Bella, the city is _gorgeous _this time of year. How can you let that _male_ distract you from it?" She screwed up her nose with genuine disdain before she opened the cab door for us and was greeted cheerfully—by name—by the turban-clad Driver.

I slumped in the seat ignoring her as she and the cab driver exchanged pleasantries and gazed glumly out the window. She was right I had to admit; the city _was_ gorgeous at Christmastime, but the fact that I was alone and heartbroken just made it all the more worse.

Tyler dumping me had caused an incredible insecurity to manifest itself within me. I felt completely helpless in the face of it; only I had no idea how to combat it. Alice had told me I needed to give it time—everyone had told me to give it time—but time so far was not my friend. Three years of my life had ended with me being literally replaced with a person that every woman feared; leaving me feeling expendable at best. Alice initially had tried to get me to celebrate it, saying it meant new doors were going to open for me, but I couldn't see it like that. I loved Tyler; I'd given every part of my soul to him, and he'd tossed me away without any consideration that we'd shared three years of our lives together. It had crushed me.

At first, I went spiraling into a vortex of depression, only to snap out of it with seething anger, before the morosity of it dragged me back under. Now I carried the ache of it everywhere I went. It was the last thing I felt before sleep took me and the first thing that welcomed me to a new day. Even in my dreams it lingered, turning projections of them bleak and shadowy.

"Bella, seriously, do you think he's suffering like this? The only one that you're hurting, by not accepting it and moving forward, is you." Alice's tone was compassionate this time, yet when I turned to meet her eyes, they were bright with her stubbornly held belief that my breakup was a positive.

"I do realize that, Alice," I replied sounding stroppy again, before I reined it in. "I just …" I didn't bother finishing. Alice knew all too well what I was feeling. Not because she'd experienced it herself, but because of my inability to overcome my heartbreak, she was constantly subjected to it.

"Just promise me that tonight, at least, you'll keep it out of your mind and have some fun."

Alice and I differed on our definition of fun. To me, stumbling around in fear of life and limb on a sheet of solid ice was_ not_ fun. But that's exactly what I spent the first ten minutes doing.

Of course, Rockefeller Center at night, at Christmas was a gorgeous sight that seemed to epitomize everything that I'd lost. With the huge, brilliantly lit up tree it was hopelessly romantic, and somewhere I would have liked to have gone with Tyler. And to add further insult to injury, everyone around me was skating in pairs, either snuggled together or hand in hand as they glided slowly past.

A burning emotion slowly built up in me that, thankfully, quickly manifested itself as anger.

Screw Tyler! I wouldn't allow him or his bimbo, brain dead new girlfriend to continue to bring me down. Alice was right, dammit. I was single in the most famous city in the world, with doors opening up all around me, and I was going to make the most of it!

I came to an almost stand still, waiting for a break in the crowds so I could make my way to the railings and off the ice, when Alice suddenly grabbed my hand from behind and propelled me along with her.

"Alice—wait, no—not so FAST!" I burst, gripping her arm in fear with both my hands, while trying to maintain my balance over the speed she was pulling me along with.

She giggled; she was completely at ease and agile as she maneuvered through the crowds. "Bella, relax. You're not going to fall."

Famous last words.

After the third demand to let me go or at the very least slow down, she agreed. Prizing my death grip from her arm, she skated off leaving me moving across the ice faster than I was able to manage.

I tried valiantly to get to the barriers before I lost my footing, but within ten feet from the safety of the side rails, I was going over backwards; complete with wildly flailing arms.

It was then that I collided with a warm body, and in my panic I instinctively reached out. In my clumsy attempts to stop myself falling, I felt my wool sheathed hand slap against naked skin with a thudding sound, before I grabbed what I thought was a scarf. It made no difference; the laws of physics were going against me. In the next instant, I was lying flat on my back on the cold, hard ice, staring into a pair of dark, penetrating eyes; their owner laying flush on top of me.

There was something about those eyes, and they held me jarred for a moment—before mortification could set in over our compromising position.

"Merry Christmas." Was the first idiotic thing that spewed from my lips, and my eyes were immediately attracted to an incredibly amused, yet warm, lopsided grin.

"Merry Christmas to you," he replied with a smooth voice, before carefully, yet awkwardly helping me to my feet.

All I could say was thank goodness it was night and near freezing, so that the heat gathering in my face wasn't so conspicuous.

"I'm terribly sorry," I mumbled rubbing my forehead and staring down at his jean clad legs, trying to save what was left of my dignity—only to immediately stumble forward and head-butt him in the chin.

I heard his groan then felt his hands as they hastily closed around my upper arms and held me steady, before I could drag him down on top of me again.

"Oh god!" I exclaimed knowing that nothing at that moment could hide the hue to my cheeks. "I'm an idiot!"

He smiled again and shook his head gently. "It's fine. You're not an idiot. You're just not a very good skater."

I blinked slowly wanting to shake my head from confusion—and the equal amounts of humiliation. Instead, I only blushed deeper and mumbled an unintelligible reply under my breath.

With his smile not wavering and his hands still holding me upright, he guided me to the side—where I almost fell up the step to steady ground. This time a soft laughed left him, distracting me with its timbre from the embarrassing probability of more word vomit—an obvious, untapped talent of mine.

"I think you should save yourself now. Thank you for..." The words faded from my mouth. What could I say, 'thank you for being nice about my multiple assaults on you'? I shrugged my shoulders sheepishly.

"It was my pleasure," he answered warmly. He was leaning against the railing with one elbow propped up on it, when he, almost apprehensively, extended it toward me. "I'm Jasper."

I took it in mine, enjoying the heat of it through my mittens—which now looked ridiculous in his bare, masculine hand. I pulled my hand free maybe a little too hastily and returned my grip on the railing. "Bella."

The smile reappeared on his face, which suddenly occurred to me, was quite a handsome one. "It was nice to meet you, Bella." And with that he made the motion of tipping a hat he wasn't wearing then turned and disappeared amongst the crowds.

I stomped heavily to the bench, sat down and removed the wretched skates from my feet, when I realized that my hands were quite literally shaking, and in complete sync with my hammering heart. I lifted my head up in contemplation, suddenly realizing that my butt was wet, when pure mortification caused a loud groan to erupt from me, scaring the nearby pigeons into panicky flight.

With my face on fire and while hoping I didn't spot the poor unfortunate guy who'd had the displeasure of having a close encounter with my clumsiness, I flagged down Alice.

She skated up to me, stopping instantly with a skidding maneuver that caused a spray of ice to cover the bottom of my legs. "So," she drawled her grin turning all-knowing. "I saw you chatting up Mr. Whitlock. Deets please!"

I only stared at her incredulously and with copious amounts of confusion. Was it possible that Alice could know more about my everyday life than I did? "Huh—who?" I finally uttered, my confusion winning out.

No eye roll this time, instead she half grinned and snorted out the audio equivalent of it. "_Jasper _Whitlock?"

"The guy I collided with?" I replied, instantly recalling the reason why I wanted to leave post haste. "How on earth do you know his name?"

"Because I _asked_ him, duh..."

A shuddering spasm of embarrassment over took me. "We have to leave—now!"

"Did you get his number? I can ask him that t—" she began, but I cut off her words, that were ridiculously loud enough to earn us curious glances, by yanking her off the ice.

"You know what I'm_ absolutely_ craving?" Alice spoke with sudden passion as she laced up her chucks—one pink the other blue—and glanced at me, her eyes reflecting her ever present enthusiasm.

I scrunched up my brow and shrugged, before scanning the crowds for _Mr. Whitlock_, and sighing with relief when I didn't see him.

"Ice-cream—Basking Robbins—oh _yum_!"

Would I ever be able to look at Alice without surprise? Probably not, but I voiced my exclamations nonetheless. "It's like one hundred below!"

Do I really need to state that she rolled her eyes again?

"Bella, how is it different from drinking coffee in summer?"

"Okay," I sighed, "but I think I'll forgo the ice-cream for hot chocolate."

We decided to walk this time. Serendipity was only a couple of blocks away and I was quickly reassured, by the gum-toothed smiles from the vagrants we passed not to become too concerned over a mugging.

"Bella ... why do you have a wet heinie?" Alice asked arching an eyebrow at me as if it wasn't blazingly obvious. She didn't see clumsiness as a part of a person's genetic makeup, after all.

"Alice, we went Ice skating; do you want me to draw you a picture?"

"Oh." She giggled. "Jasper thinks you're cute, by the way."

I tripped up on an uneven crack in the sidewalk. "What?" I blurted awkwardly righting myself. "You asked him that too?"

"Nope, he volunteered that info himself," she replied smiling to herself almost slyly.

"How on earth did you breach the subject?" I declared, feeling my cheeks hotting up and using aggravation to stop the audible groan-vomit.

"Look, it's cool he went to college with Edward—and no, before you ask, he doesn't swing that way too. Total hetero—and totally gorgeous!"

I only stared at her, feeling my eye beginning to twitch as I tried to grasp her words.

She'd asked him about his sexual orientation?

"Alice … what…?"

With an internal sigh I dismissed it, thanking God that I lived in a city of twenty million people and I would never see him again.

Right?

We reached the entrance of Serendipity's. I jerkily reached out to push the doors open; turning my head from Alice with an over exaggerated sigh. Only as I pushed out my arm, the door opened and what my hand came into contact with was not a door handle but a hot beverage that I knocked over and down the front of—

"Jasper!" Alice exclaimed.

I met the clear blue eyes of Jasper Whitlock, just milliseconds before he reacted to the burning hot fluid staining his clothes.

Oh God…

"Oh my God!" I gave a voice to my inner death wish.

I sprang forward to—well I had no idea what I was going to do, but as he flinched away to prevent the hot liquid on his shirt from coming in contact with his skin, he bent forward and I head-butted him. Again.

"Oh god, I'm terribly sorry—oh god—oh god!" I rambled on and on, trying like an idiot to wipe his shirt dry and ignoring the stinging pain shooting through my eyebrow where our heads had collided.

He was rubbing his brow, his other hand held up as if it to appease my attempts to hastily wipe away what I identified as coffee from his sweater. Though I'm sure it was to also protect himself from further assaults from me.

Okay, I was naturally clumsy, but this was just the universe playing a twisted joke on me.

I continued to ramble, word vomiting to a pathetic new low as I added self-insults to my apologies.

When he released his stricken forehead from his hand, a small smile was tugging up his lips.

"Bella, it's fine—really, it's fine," he reassured me, almost chuckling I noted.

But his good natured reaction to what I could only define as the single most humiliating night in the history of my life only made me more flustered. And as a defense mechanism, from living with Alice I was sure, any flusterings that I experienced usually manifested themselves as irritation. Which, of course I unleashed on Jasper.

"How did you get here so fast?" I demanded.

"Erm … cab?" Doubt flickered across his expression.

"I mean—oh god, please let me buy you another coffee. I insist!" I fumbled inside my bag for a tissue, which I used to soak up the spillage on the front of him and suddenly noticed that a deep blush was creeping up his neck.

My eyes slowly rose to meet his gaze; he was smiling down at me in a way that momentarily distracted me from the pain of my mortification.

"Okay." His lips twitched before his smile broadened.

"I-I'm sorry?"

This time his face flushed and his eyes turned away from mine.

"Good grief, Bella. You offered to buy him another coffee and he agreed to it!" Alice exclaimed with over the top exasperation from beside me, reminding me of her presence.

"Oh—of course, I'm sorry. Stay right here." I moved to enter Serendipity, but he caught me by the arm gently.

"How about I take a rain check? I can only see tonight ending in disaster after all." He was teasing me, his tone warm and low, but to me it felt like a blow off, and my face immediately flamed in response.

Though, did I really want to see this man again after tonight? I honestly had no idea, but even as I contemplated it, I couldn't drag my fixed gaze from his eyes.

Alice jabbed me sharply in the side, just as Jasper's hand rose up to wipe the back of his neck awkwardly

"Of course, yes. I'm sorry … what?"

"Erm ..." he began but abandoned it.

I looked down at my shoes, smothering the groan that was forming in my throat and praying for death.

What the hell was wrong with me? I was acting like a lunatic.

Quickly pulling myself into a semi-coherent order, I looked up at Jasper and smiled apologetically. "Rain check … okay, that's fine. D-do you want my number?"

I wondered if he could hear the way my heart was hammering while I held my breath waiting for him to laugh hysterically and run away in self-preservation.

Instead, he held up a small, crumpled piece of paper and smiled abashedly. "Alice … just gave it to me."

I blinked and turned my head slowly in Alice's direction. She pulled out the mother of all eye rolls that the vein in her forehead looked like it might burst. "Well Jesus, Bella, the freaking Titanic sank faster!"

I glanced back at Jasper, my expression felt demented. My emotions were so bi-polar I didn't know whether to hug Alice or strangle her; or drop dead due to mortification induced heart failure; or sigh with relief that this handsome man before me didn't think I was as unbalanced as all my actions suggested.

He held my gaze steadily; his smile was slightly awkward looking, like he really did want to run screaming for the hills, but then to my incredible surprise, he broke into short, soft laughter. Again the smooth warmth of it took me slightly aback, and I feared that I was beginning to stare in an impolite manner.

I opened my mouth to speak in an attempt to sway attention away from my ogling, when he reached out and took my hand in his for the second time that night. It effectively and immediately silenced what could have potentially been more embarrassing word vomit and I sighed a little under my breath.

"Bella, it really was nice meeting you, despite the obvious…"

"Disasters!" Alice broke in, her tone dry.

Jasper's grin twitched broader for a moment as if in agreement, before it relaxed.

I choked back the exasperated huff and nodded in good-natured agreement, shrugging to myself. "Okay, I guess I deserve that. It was nice to meet you too, Jasper."

_Still salvageable, no need to shop for razor blades just yet_, I told myself before plastering a forced smile on my face and meeting his gaze.

So crystal blue…

"I'll see you soon, Bella."

"Er…"

Alice grabbed my arm and promptly dragged me into inside the restaurant, and the last I saw of Jasper Whitlock was his profile as he turned to walk away. He seemed to be fighting the obvious desire to grin.

"What the _hell_ was that?" Alice demanded taking a seat at a corner booth and looking back at me as though I had a screw loose.

Well let's face it, after tonight the jury was still deliberating my psychological wellbeing.

"I don't know," I answered honestly becoming frustrated at myself as I sat opposite her.

My hands were trembling and I quickly placed them under the table before Alice discovered the state of them.

Too late.

A huge, all too knowing grin grew slowly across her face. "You horny, little faker!"

At least a few dozen pairs of eyes turned to stare in our direction, while several of them sang out cheerful hellos to Alice.

I rolled my eyes and grabbed the menu, hiding my prickling face from view. "I'm not faking anything, Alice," I insisted.

"Well I can't fault you for becoming unglued in front of him. He is rather lush, and if those buns were any tighter he'd bounce instead of walk!"

I shrank further behind the menu, and wondered at what opportunity had Alice got a view of his backside. I felt slightly envious that she had—if I was being honest with myself.

"I'll have a dark double devil mousse and Bella will have the Jasper Whitlock sundae with an extra helping of hot buns." I heard Alice say to the waitress, who immediately laughed loudly—with over exaggerated enthusiasm, I felt.

"Oh, Alice, you crack me up. Who's Jasper Whitlock?"

I began suspecting that the aneurysm I'd prayed for was about to hit.

"Just a cappuccino," I mumbled without venturing from behind the safety of the laminated paper.

Who _was_ Jasper Whitlock? I began to think I'd never know. And after a week without hearing from him, I was almost certain of it. I couldn't blame him after all. If I was him I wouldn't want to see me again—at least not without full body armor.

It wasn't a total loss though, because that night was the first in months that I fell asleep without Tyler on my mind.

Life went on as normal. I continued to struggle with my grief, but after my encounter with Jasper, I realized that I was more open to moving on than I had previously thought. Along with this new revelation, two things happened: Alice stopped rolling her eyes at me, and I stopped being so god damned, pitifully negative.

I'd survived after all, and I was better for it.

Two days before Christmas and courtesy to the last minute Christmas rush, I was put on the floor of menswear. Thankfully, it was too busy for me to have the time to moan about it, and people were friendly and cheerful, as opposed to the usual New York bad-tempered impatience; which made it a little easier to bear.

Of course, Bloomingdale's resident slut, Jessica Stanley, who fancied herself an authoritarian—due to her length of employment in the department floor—gave me menial duties for her own amusement. Collecting coat hangers from empty change rooms was her torture of choice after I returned from my lunch break with Alice.

Reminding myself that it was Christmas and I should remain in the spirit without having murderous thoughts toward anyone, I carted the trolley behind me, throwing discarded hangers in.

"Bella, you forgot formalwear," the slut called out to me across three sections, in front of dozens of shoppers who took the delusions of Jessica at her word, and looked decidedly down their noses at me.

My Christmas cheer was officially up.

I turned in a huff towards the change rooms and yanked open the fractionally ajar curtain of the first one I came across.

"Whoa!" came an urgent, panicked voice from within.

I turned my head slowly to the continuation of my nightmare and was confronted with Jasper, with one leg in a pair of trousers and about to fall over in his haste to cover himself.

For that split second before my brain reacted, I found myself mesmerized by a pair of white banded, black Hugo Boss underwear, and as equally transfixed by the trail of dark hair that emerged from them.

Of course, because I was that month's recipient of the universe's idiot of the month award, word vomit promptly ensued.

"Hugo Boss"—that quickly led to self-slander—"Jasper—oh!"

I whipped myself around, closing the curtain as I went. My heart was hammering so rapidly that it burned to the surface of my face.

"Bella," Jessica drawled, having witnessed the whole thing, because the universe was that cruel. "I'd say you look like you've seen a ghost, but if I was to guess, I'd say you'd just had some_ serious_ fun behind those curtains."

There was an element of appreciation to her voice, but I tried my best to ignore her and made my way in search of the razorblades that I had naively told myself I didn't need.

I was in the staff bathroom ordering my face to return to a more civilized hue, when Jessica stalked in, with her delusions of authority trailing close behind.

"A customer has asked explicitly that you serve him." She sniffed and turned her head away, clearly affronted.

If it was under any other circumstance, I would have enjoyed the moment fully, but instead I groaned loudly. What on earth could his motive be? I wondered and dismissed her impatiently with a short wave of my hand. "Tell him I'm indisposed."

I had no intention of acting out scene two in _name Jasper's underwear_, and there was no way that I was going to stand before him in awkward glory while he felt obliged to make excuses for why he never called. Especially with the menswear whore as a witness.

But Jessica didn't budge; instead she sucked in her breath loudly. It grabbed my attention, whether or not that was her intention. I met her gaze through the bathroom mirror.

"Need I remind you that he is a customer _and you will do as you're told_!"

With all self-respect down the same sink that I'd been staring into, my patience quickly followed. Taking an angry, measured breath, I turned to face her.

"And I'll ask _you_ not to speak to me like that, you cheap, skanky _cashier_!" My tone was low and threatening, and to be honest, sounded completely foreign to my own ears. But not wanting to lose any momentum, I walked calmly past her, trying to suppress the grin as she scrambled to get out of my way; her lower lip almost kissing her own ass.

My initial plan was to exit the floor without being spotted, but since Jasper seemed to be searching for me, he spotted me the moment I re-entered the department, stealthily on the way to the lift, and motioned me toward him.

I Looked down at my feet, heaved back a sigh and groaned. It began internally but was soon vibrating its way down my legs as it became audible. I stepped alongside the counter, and prayed that I'd silenced the slut enough into submission that she sought refuge in the bathroom for a while and wouldn't hear what I assumed was about to transpire. Then I looked up at Jasper preparing to sheepishly apologize and offer him a discount as a bribe to never come back, when I found myself jarred.

His clear blue eyes were bright, while a smile was pulling askew across his face—without an ounce of embarrassment over the changing room incident!

"Hi, Bella," he greeted me. His voice was soft and warm—as though he was addressing an old friend.

I was pretty sure my expression was conveying my confusion, but then I couldn't be certain that I wasn't half drooling either.

"H-hi." Because properly articulating two letter words seemed to be a frequent issue for me.

His grin twitched further for a moment, before he set his eyes on the floor. When he looked back up, he placed a pair of pants on the counter. "I'll take these."

"Christmas present?" I asked, trying to maintain a casual front, while knowing I was failing miserably. I rang them through the register, feeling my heart begin to accelerate again and knowing there wasn't much I could do to prevent the shade of my cheeks.

He cleared his throat subtly before answering. "Um … no, they're for me."

"Seventy-nine ninety-five." I looked up, meeting the clear sharpness of his blue eyes, suddenly understanding the meaning behind his expression.

They were the pants he was trying on when I—

_Oh crap!_

Could I possibly make myself appear any stupider?

With his grin beginning to edge again, he handed me a one hundred dollar bill. I rang up the purchase glad for a reason to severe eye contact. "I'm so terribly sorry about the change room, Jasper. I've been put on this floor for today and the-the …" I abandoned the apology with a sudden internal warning that I'd more than likely finish it with the mention of his brand of underwear again.

"It's fine. These things happen, right?"

I looked back up at him and handed him his change. He was being altogether too charming about it all—again. I folded his pants neatly and put them into a carry bag, and answered as I extended it to him, "The general population, no. Me? Yes."

His grin turned toothy, sparking a flash of heat to generate in my face. His smile was by far his most redeeming quality; it lit up his entire face, even when his lips were contemplating the idea of it. It soon merged into a soft laugh, and I had the distinct feeling that I was staring because his expression suddenly turned awkward.

"Bella … I'm sorry I didn't call—there really is a very good reason for it," he hastily blurted the last part, and I cringed, despite the sincerity of his tone.

Oh ... that…

"Jasper … it's okay. I—" I began, hoping to get past it with as much dignity as possible, but he quickly interjected.

"My mother is staying for Christmas, and she decided to spring clean my apartment—not to mention wash every article of clothing that I own." His eyes widened almost pleading with me, and I found myself confused again.

I nodded accepting his excuse gallantly—my smiled more forced than natural—before I glanced away biting on my lower lip. He sounded genuine but his mother washing his clothes with my number in the pocket was almost as pathetic as the 'dog ate my homework'.

Which had happened to me once.

"You … don't believe me, do you?" he asked, though it was more of a statement.

When my gaze snapped to his, his expression was somber while his eyes were deepening as they canvassed mine.

"Um, Jasper, no one could fault you, I—"

He interrupted me again, "Bella, if I was just blowing you off, believe me I'd come up with an excuse that wasn't so lame." His grin altered his entire expression again, as one corner of his lips pulled fractionally.

_Sexy…_

I pulled myself up short suddenly, and cleared my throat with the mortifying thought that I'd just spoken that one word aloud.

"I tell you what, Bella, how about I give you my number and if you want to hang out sometime, you can call me?" he suggested raising his brow. His smile this time was genuine.

I sighed audibly and then immediately regretted it. I didn't want him to think I was pathetically relieved that he still wanted to have anything to do with me. I was in fact sighing when I realized I hadn't succumbed to word vomit and told him he was sexy.

His replying smile however appeared encouraged by it, and the goddamn appeal of it made me instantly flustered.

It quickly went downhill.

"I was thinking you're sexy."

"Pardon me?" And of course his grin then crossed all boundaries of it.

"I mean—oh god … never mind." I dropped my head into my palm and attempted to conceal my mortification behind it.

I lost all compulsion when I was around him. I had no idea why, but it was insane!

I knew I couldn't just stand there hiding from him like I was five, so I removed my hand and exposed my beet red face to him. When I reluctantly raised my eyes to gauge him, again, the dominating expression on his face was amusement, even though he seemed to be fighting the urge to express it.

He suddenly extended his hand, the receipt for his pants in his fingers. "I hope you'll call, Bella."

I took the piece of paper from him and glanced down at the several scrawled numbers on it. Looking up quickly I nodded, before I scoffed to myself ruefully. "Are you sure? I mean I can't guarantee your safety."

He chuckled. "Merry Christmas, Bella."

He was so completely charming that I began to feel cynical. He was too nice, too easy going, too—I cleared my throat abruptly before my thoughts spiraled out of control again and I ended up telling him he was sexy for the second time in sixty seconds.

"You too," was all I was brave enough to offer.

With a final parting smile, he turned and walked towards the lifts. I acted before I could process what I was doing. Picking up the phone on the counter, I hastily dialed the numbers written on the receipt.

No cell ringtone rang out in the store, and my heart immediately sank. I continued to let it ring for reasons unknown, until it was picked up by message bank.

"You've reached Jazz, please leave a message and I'll get back to you soon."

My heart was immediately propelled into a frenzy of activity. Despite introducing himself as 'Jazz', the deep, soft, resonating voice was without a doubt his.

The phone beeped and immediately my senses snapped back. "Erm … hi, Jasper, it's B-Bella. I guess … I guess I was just checking." I slammed down the phone and groaned loudly, attracting half a dozen curious shoppers who immediately made their way over to me with their purchases.

The rest of the day was incident free until just before my shift ended; I was called into the office by my Boss, Rosalie Hale. There was a rumor circulating that I had been seen in an uncompromising position with a customer in a formalwear change room. Luckily, Rosalie, knowing the credibility of the source—slutty Jessica Stanley with obvious desires to get even with me—had called me in for protocol reasons only. Still, I got a lot more holiday greetings from the male staff members as I left that afternoon.

Alice, with all her powers of persuasion, attempted to convince me to call Jasper that night. I didn't. The reality was that I still hadn't recovered from my embarrassing stint of word vomit and didn't trust myself alone with just the sound of that deep, husky voice.

I called him six days later, using the Christmas holidays as my excuse to calm myself and properly get my bearings before I braved the idea of talking to him again.

This time he answered. To my relief, it was nowhere near as awkward as I suspected it would be. We chatted casually and easily about Christmas, and our plans for New Years. Despite my past reactions to him and the fact that I knew Alice was eagerly eavesdropping on the other side of my door, I felt completely at ease. By the time I hung up twenty minutes later, I had a date planned for the following Friday night.

He'd been evasive as to where he was taking me. A part of me feared that he was concerned about taking me somewhere too public. Not that I could altogether blame him, taking into account that the first time I'd met him, I'd pulled him on top of me; the second, I'd poured steaming hot coffee down the front of him; and the third, I'd exposed him half naked to half the Christmas shoppers in Bloomingdale's menswear. Bad luck came in threes, so I was hoping the universe had received enough laughs at my expense and had moved on.

I'd been a nervous wreck the entire day, envisioning the possible disasters that now seemed entirely possible considering my history with Jasper. What I feared most was an uncontrollable bout of word vomit that had me revealing something horrendously embarrassing, like my entire sexual history. All he had to do was direct that smile in my vicinity and all mortifying hell could be unleashed.

As it was, the moment I opened the door to him Friday night and was greeted by that bewitching smile, I was too completely entranced by the fact that I found him a league more desirable than I'd ever found Tyler, that any concern I had over divulging my preferred sexual position dissolved.

He was wearing a navy blue scarf that was so sexy that I wanted to rip it from his neck and inhale it deeply. It was completely random in light of the rest of him, but I knew I couldn't be trusted to act, or think—or feel rationally around him, so I ignored it.

"Hi, Bella." I wondered if he gargled honey to get such a deep, smooth sounding voice.

"Hi—you want to go? Alice is lurking." Hell it was true, she'd been in a tizz all afternoon and point blank refused to allow me to do my own hair. I had to give her credit though; it was so silky I wanted to start whirling it around as if I was in a Pantene commercial.

"Erm… sure." He laughed gently and allowed me to pull him into the foyer.

"I'm sorry, but Alice is … Alice …" I was sure I didn't need to elaborate.

"I get that. Alice is very … assertive. I ran into her yesterday at Dean and DeLucas." He reached out to press the lift button.

"Oh god, what did she say to you?" I turned to gaze at him slowly, feeling my heart instantly accelerate in panic.

He grinned and rubbed his chin with his fingertips. "She told me you'd recently been hurt and you weren't normally so … do you really want to know?"

My face spontaneously combusted. "Am I going to need to buy a semi-automatic to use on her when I get back?"

He attempted to smother another laugh as he shook his head in answer. "No, but then she gave me a John Freida's business card. Any relation?"

The lift doors opened with a ping and we stepped inside.

"Boss," I answered with a sigh, wondering if I should invest any more energy in stressing over Alice's methods of interference.

When the doors closed and the lift descended, Jasper grabbed both my shoulders and turned me to face him. "OK, let's get all the awkwardness out of the way up front. I'm wearing Calvin Klein underwear and I was thinking that you look incredibly beautiful."

I was staring blankly at his mouth as it curved gently and slightly askew, while internally I was screaming at myself to respond. But how could I come back from something like that?

"B-bondage."

_Oh fuck…_

"I'm sorry?" His expression all but went blank apart from his slightly quirked brow.

"I mean Bonds … I mean … I'm not sure."

"Bonds?" His full lips were curving up again; it was the last thing I needed.

"Yeah—I think. I mean, I have this friend on Facebook who's from Australia and Bonds is sort of the American equivalent to Calvin Klein—women's underwear. Well, she sent me some. Did Alice tell you I wasn't normally so scatterbrained?" I dropped my forehead into the palm of my hand and rubbed it heavily.

_Oh god._ Where was death when I so desperately needed it?

"Clumsy," he answered bending down a fraction to speak it softly against my ear.

I looked up; he was smiling now in full amusement. I took a heavy breath and shook my head slightly to myself. "She was lying," I replied wryly.

"You're wearing Bondage underwear from Australia. I'm glad we got that out of the way," he teased me warmly before he added a fraction more seriously, "Bella, will you please relax?"

I nodded, even though I knew there'd be no chance of it. I was off the scale when I was nervous; the only thing was that no other guy had ever made me this nervous before. So of course, I confessed it to him.

The lift opened and as we walked out, he reached out and grabbed my hand gently in his. "What do I have to do to put you at ease?"

I was immediately engulfed by the warmth of his breath against my ear again. It caused a fuzziness to come over me, and I melted slightly against him. I wanted to ask him not to smile so much, but at the same time, it was all I wanted him to do. I inhaled the scent of his aftershave attempting to get my bearings and mumbled, feeling slightly drunk. "If you don't smile, I'll be OK."

_Idiot!_

Of course that's what he immediately did.

He took me to Rockefeller Center.

When I turned to him with wide, slightly suspicious eyes, he laughed and insisted that he wanted to teach me how to skate.

_Teach me to skate_ was a broad definition. For the first twenty minutes I clung to his waist for my life, as the pitch of his laugh made my equilibrium even more off balanced. I soon graduated to gripping his shirt tightly in my closed fists as he attempted to keep me upright and steady. Then finally, I progressed enough that I was able to allow Jasper to pull me along with him by my hand.

We'd spent close to two hours on the ice, when he carefully guided me off to the side; his hands curved protectively around my waist. And as we sat on the bench, unlacing our skates and laughing, I realized it had been the antidote to my nervousness around him—the antidote to my heartbreak.

The idea that I'd been so immersed by pain over Tyler suddenly seemed ridiculous to me. Ridiculous that I'd wasted three years of my life on him!

When we'd put our shoes back on, Jasper took both of my hands in his and pulled me with him off the bench. He was still smiling; it seemed to be a permanent fixture to his expression. It didn't make me want to divulge my sexual history to him; it made me want to start another one _with_ him.

I gently pulled a hand free from his and placed it against the warmth of his cheek. "You cured me."

His smile was in the process of tugging wider when I pulled him down to me and merged those perfect, soft lips of his with mine.

**A/N: writing this fic turned me so team Jasper for a while, and I loved writing him with Bella; considering I don't normally do non canon pairings. So what did you think?**


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